Requiem for a Genome
by Scribe Figaro
Summary: Two years after the reunion of Zidane and Garnet, a tragedy occurs in Alexandria.


  
Requiem for a Genome 

Queen Garnet til Alexandros 17th cleared her throat and bent down to take a drink of water. She had been singing so long it parched her throat, but she didn't mind. After bringing the cool earthen flask to her lips, she smiled and poured the rest of the vessel out on the shaggy mat of hair that rested in her lap. Zidane had been lying there, watching her sing for him. But several moments ago he turned over and appeared to go to sleep, and she was feeling playful. 

Zidane immediately uttered a grunt and jumped to a position that was half kneeling, half squatting. His hands hovered at his belt, apparently prepared to draw the twin daggers he often wore there. But he was in the palace courtyard, whereas his weapons were stored in their bedroom in the castle. She knew he disliked walking about unarmed, but she had insisted he leave his weapons in his room, at least while they were in the palace. The feeling of cold steel death attached at his belt might have enticed her before in some strange way, but now it only made it hard for her to cuddle him. He understood, as he always understood her, and never complained about his discomfort. He felt the need to protect her as much as she felt the need for protection. But it wasn't physical protection she wanted – Steiner and Beatrix were more than enough for that – she wanted, no, _needed_ a protector of her soul. Neither Steiner's Excalibur nor Beatrix's Save the Queen made her feel safe the way Zidane's arms did. 

Still, the utter fear and confusion that lasted a split-second in Zidane's eyes made her nearly cry out apologies. She might have broken down in tears for hurting him so if he hadn't touched his wet hair and glanced at the empty bottle of water in her hands a second later. His look of shock was immediately replaced by an impish grin that dried away the tears before they started and made her laugh out loud. 

"And what, may I ask, was that for?" he asked in mock anger. 

Her hands drifted to the damp spots on her thighs where the water had soaked her orange overalls. "I was singing my heart out, and you had the audacity to go to sleep," she said, the words coming with difficulty and exacerbating the tightness in her cheeks as she tried not to smile. 

Zidane shook his head, flinging droplets of water all around. "I can't believe you'd commit an assault on a king. Not a small crime, you know." He smiled slyly. "You, my dear, must be punished." 

Garnet jumped to her feet. "You wouldn't dare." 

Zidane pounced, but she giggled and sidestepped him. She knew he was faster than her, but she somehow stayed a few steps ahead of him as she ran down the hill they had been resting on. Behind her, she heard clanging dishes as Zidane, probably on purpose, stumbled over the picnic they had set up earlier. 

She didn't even hear him approach when he tackled her. No, not tackled, that would imply violence. His arms wrapped around her waist and both went flying headlong, but Zidane twisted in midair and landed hard on his back, taking the whole shock of the fall in his own body. She felt the furry warmth of his tail wrapping over one of her legs as he rolled over, pressing Garnet's back to the grass and straddling her. His hands grasped at her wrists and held them over her head. 

She smiled at him seductively. "Looks like you caught me," she said, matter-of-factly. 

"Indeed. I guess a certain naughty girl is about to get a spanking." 

She giggled, but stopped when what she assumed to be the mock-serious look on his face didn't fade. 

_Oh, Zidane. No. Not here. In the bedroom, maybe, but not here where the Knights of Pluto might see._

Perhaps he read her mind, or maybe he never intended to embarrass her, for he immediately smiled. "Just kidding, of course," he said as he leaned forward and found her lips, his tongue dipping into her mouth. As she returned the kiss his grip loosened. Her fingers slid over his hands, up his arms and pressed against his back, trying to pull him closer to her. 

He had moved from her mouth and began kissing her cheeks, and when his lips reached her ear he whispered. 

"I wouldn't. If you bring me that far I'll be forced to go farther, and I'm sure that's not what you want, especially out in the open as we are." 

She nodded, knowingly, but the curious, perhaps mean side of her allowed her knee to slide up his thigh. He pulled away slightly, his face twisted in an emotion that was not quite pleasure but not quite pain, either. She laughed, cautiously, and took his head in her hands, pressing his face against her chest. 

"Why do I let you torment me so?" he murmured. 

"Because I love you," she whispered in his ear. Her hand pressed against his shoulder, and she pushed him until he lay on his back. She placed her head on his chest and sighed as she felt one hand wrap around her shoulder and another lightly stroke her hair. 

"I love you," she repeated. "And I need you. Don't ever go away, Zidane." 

Garnet assumed he was already asleep, for Zidane said nothing. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Adelbert Steiner quietly marched down the path that circled the palace courtyard. The lack of clanging armor that followed him at every step had recently allowed him the ability to sneak up on his soldiers, and Steiner found it amusing to no end. 

It was Queen Garnet that had finally broken down and told him outright a few weeks ago that the constant crashing armor made her feel like a kitchen galley was attacking each time he approached, and if he didn't silence his goddamned armor immediately, he would find himself out of a job. Steiner was taken aback at first, but after walking away he realized, partly with Beatrix's insistence, that the queen was not as angry as she appeared and would never intend to replace him. Beatrix brought him to her bedroom that evening and began to show him how she muffled her own armor. He remembered she removed her chestplate to show him how the leather wrapped around the buckles, and then . . . well, the evening got a lot less productive and a lot more enjoyable. The following morning, Beatrix continued her lesson, and that was the end of Steiner's legacy as the noisy tin man. 

Steiner was a mere two feet from the Knight of Pluto that stood next to a few waist-high bushes. The soldier was on patrol, but for some reason saw fit to stand idly and stare at . . . something. 

Steiner looked into the distance, first seeing the brightly-colored picnic blanket at the top of the hill a few hundred feet away. As his eyes scanned the landscape, he eventually found the object of the young soldier's interest. Zidane and the Queen were lying on the grass. Queen Garnet was apparently asleep, but the slight movements of Zidane's arm over her hair suggested he was still awake, though most assuredly oblivious of the invasion of their privacy. 

Steiner took the sword from the solder's scabbard, then grabbed his belt and threw him backwards onto the path. There was a cry of surprise, then a crash of metal on earth. 

"Captain Steiner!" the man shouted from the cloud of dust. His helmet obscured his hair and eyes, but from the babyish look to the young man's face, he could tell he was a new recruit. He couldn't be more than twenty years old. 

"Knight of Pluto!" Steiner bellowed. "State your sworn duty!" 

"To protect the Queen and royal family at all costs, sir!" The man made a motion to get up, but the look in his captain's eyes kept him pinned to the ground. 

"And is it your duty to take advantage of your closeness to the King and Queen so that you might spy on them?" 

"No sir," the man whispered. 

Steiner threw the sword at him, landing mere inches from his hand and burying several inches of the blade into the dirt. 

"What was that, Knight?" 

"No sir!" the man shouted. 

Steiner nodded, satisfied. "Get up and resume patrol. Consider this your only warning – the next infraction shall find you in the dungeon. Understand?" 

The knight stood up, sheathed his sword and saluted. 

"I apologize, sir," he stated simply, then marched off. 

Steiner shook his head. Beatrix had no need to threaten her soldiers – her presence was enough to instill order in even the most unruly recruit. She was frightening when she needed to be. But Steiner wasn't jealous. Not anymore. It had been years since he had accepted the fact that Beatrix was better than him at a lot of things he prided himself on. Was there anything Steiner bested her at? 

Perhaps one thing. Beatrix could never love herself as much as Steiner loved her. Maybe that was enough. 

Steiner walked down the path again, whistling softly, a single truth in his mind known only to himself, Beatrix, and perhaps the Queen, if she was as close to Beatrix as Steiner thought. 

Steiner was a romantic. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Garnet felt the warm fingers of sleep caress her as they relented their grip. Her eyes opened slowly, taking in the light of afternoon. She breathed in deep, reveling in the scent of her husband. 

What was it that awoke her so suddenly? She thought for a moment, feeling his chest rise and fall rhythmically against her face. That was it. His breathing was different somehow – more haggard. 

"Zidane?" Her eyebrows furrowed with concern, she lifted her head and looked into his face. 

There was a mildly fearful look in his eyes, but it was scattered with a wry smile almost immediately. 

"Dagger," he cooed. He hadn't called her that in a while, very rarely since they had married, and even then only in their most intimate moments. He understood clearly what the word did to her, how it called up feelings deep inside, digging up memories of their adventuring, and perhaps best of all, the memory of how he returned to her two years ago. She thought he was dead, and afterward she was enraged at Vivi, who had assisted Zidane's plan and kept the secret of his survival. Only for a few moments, of course. Zidane wouldn't allow her to be mad, and she apologized to Vivi in short order. 

Zidane must have known how the name touched her, for how could he not see the heat that rose in her chest and worked its way down her body each time he called her that special name? Perhaps that was why he reserved it only for certain occasions, when it would tug at her heart most effectively. 

"Are you alright?" she asked. 

He grinned again. "I'm fine," he said. He was an effective liar, but she saw the insincerity in his voice like a crack in fine pottery. She was beginning to get worried. 

"No, you're not. Zidane, why are you breathing so hard?" 

"It's nothing," he assured her. 

Garnet studied his face a moment more. "We should get back to the palace." She stood up and took his hand. She felt lucky that Doctor Tot was visiting that week, and should be somewhere in the castle. They would leave the food and picnic blanket at the top of the hill, and perhaps send someone to retrieve it later. She wanted him in the safety of their bedroom as soon as possible. 

She walked quickly beside him, but they had only topped the hill when she could see beads of sweat on his forehead. His respiration rumbled in his throat, and he began to cough. 

"Zidane?" She placed an arm around his waist, and she was tempted to carry him to the castle by herself. But she would be unable – he was far too big for her to lift. 

" . . . n-nothing," he grunted, but before he could say anything more, he recoiled as if stabbed by some hidden blade. He clutched his chest, fell backwards, and howled a bestial cry of pain. 

"Zidane!" she screamed. He fell on his back, immediately drawing his knees to his chest, his tail flicking back and forth as if on fire. She kneeled beside him, placed a hand on his tightly clenched fist, and leaned toward his face, which exhibited abject horror. His lips moved, but she couldn't read the words. He stared at her. No, not her. He was staring past her, at some horrible thing she could not visualize nor understand. Her hands gripped his as his eyes clouded over, then slowly closed. 

She looked around, unable to see a single Alexandrian guard or Knight of Pluto. 

"Help! For the love of Alexander, somebody help!" 

It seemed only reason she could see no soldiers was due to the tears stinging her eyes and obscuring her vision, for only a few seconds later she could her Steiner's shouts somewhere nearby. 

"Your Highness!" he shouted. He didn't salute as he approached, for the look in her eyes as she kneeled over Zidane's prostrate body told him such a thing would be unnecessary if not downright cruel. 

"He . . . he's dead, isn't he?" She didn't know where the words came from, and she couldn't even accept such a fact. If it was true, it would shatter her being like glass. 

Steiner removed a gauntlet and pressed his fingers to Zidane's neck. His pulse was weak, but it was present. And he could see the rise and fall of his chest. 

"He's alive," he stated, "But I think he's very ill." 

Garnet looked to him, her cheeks wet with tears. 

"What do I do?" she asked. Only a few seconds earlier she had a plan. She would bring him . . . where? It was to see . . . someone. She couldn't think straight. She shook her head, as if that would rattle her thoughts to their proper places. It didn't. 

"Don't worry, Your Highness," Steiner said. He effortlessly picked up Zidane. "I'll bring him to your chambers, and you can look for Doctor Tot on the way." He glanced at the disconnection evident in her face. "Never mind. I'll find Tot. Just follow me. Zidane's going to be fine." He hoped that last part sounded more sincere to her than it did to him. 

As luck would have it, Doctor Tot was walking down the main hallway the same moment Steiner entered it. He followed them, muttering assurances to Garnet as Steiner placed Zidane on the bed. 

Garnet sat on the bed and held Zidane's hand as Tot began to work on Zidane. Steiner retrieved Tot's medical bag from his guest room, and stood in the doorway as Doctor Tot poked, prodded, and examined. 

"Your Highness," Steiner said. "Is there anything more I can do?" She didn't respond, didn't even look at him. She held Zidane's hand in her own as she stared at his face, barely taking the effort to blink her eyes. 

"She's in a state of shock," Tot said. "Don't worry, I think she'll snap out of it soon." He reached into the black bag and took out a syringe and a small vial. "There's nothing you can do at the moment, except perhaps prepare for the worst." 

"You . . . can't help him?" Steiner felt his stomach drop, heavy with guilt for every unkind word he had uttered to the young man. For calling him . . . a monkey. Steiner shook the feeling away. 

"Well, of course I can help him," Tot said. "But if my prognosis is correct, the best I can do is give him a few more hours. Days, at most." 

"Ye gods," Steiner breathed. "What is it?" 

"Steiner," he sighed. "I think Zidane is dying of old age." 

"Impossible," Steiner replied. "He's only twenty years old." 

"Yes, and he's also a genome. They're far more advanced than we are, and that includes their cellular metabolism. Like Black Mages, they have a very short life span." 

Steiner felt his shoulders sag in dejection. "I didn't think of that. But . . . if you're right. . . . Gods. I have to tell everyone." 

"You should. If Zidane regains consciousness, I think it would be best for him to be around his friends." 

Steiner nodded and then left the chambers. Beatrix was nearby, and Vivi was in Lindblum visiting Eiko. He'd send for them within the hour. Freya was probably still in Burmeica, and Amarant was often seen in Treno. Quina was probably still wandering the continent, but he would send a letter to the Qu Marsh just in case. Was that everyone? 

He was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly knocked over Beatrix as he turned the corner. 

"Beatrix," he whispered as she stumbled backward, regaining her balance by grabbing the wall. 

"Adelbert, watch out where you're going, for gods' sake." 

He grabbed her by the shoulders and embraced her tightly. She was confused by his actions, but returned the hug nonetheless. 

"Adelbert, what's wrong?" 

"It's Zidane," he stated, barely holding back tears. Seeing him embracing Beatrix here in the hallway would be enough to elicit hoots and hollers from any spying Pluto Knights, but he knew full well that if any saw him cry, it would utterly destroy his command over them. "I think he's dying. Beatrix, what are we going to do?" 

"Steiner, no, it can't be," she said. But she couldn't stop herself from believing him. "What about the Queen?" 

"She's alright," he said. "At least, physically. Emotionally . . . dear Gods, this is going to destroy her." 

"We have to tell everyone," she said. 

"I know. I'll take care of it. Go to their room, if you want. Maybe you can comfort Her Highness." 

She nodded. "I'll do that. And I'll meet you in your room afterward." 

"Of course," Steiner said. Releasing the woman was difficult, and he found at least a little happiness in knowing Beatrix wanted him to comfort her sometime later. 

Beatrix breathed slowly, clearing her mind, and walked to the royal bedroom. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Garnet lay beside her king, one of his hands between her own and held tight to her chest. She felt so cold. She had felt that way all day, despite the fact it was summer and barely nighttime. Only Zidane gave her warmth, and she felt his hand in her own, attempting with all her might to restrain his soul right here where she could be with him. 

There was a soft stirring beside her, and she jumped in fright. Zidane grunted and slowly opened his eyes. 

"Zidane?" she asked, cautiously. 

"Dagger, my love," he whispered hoarsely. She kissed him despite the fact his face was pale as death. 

"Zidane, you scared me so much," she said. "Doctor Tot said you were . . . were . . ." 

"Dying?" Zidane said. She nodded. 

"I'm sorry, Dagger. I'm so sorry." 

"For what?" she asked, afraid to hear the answer. 

"For making you love me. For promising to never go away again. I know you, Dagger, and I know you love me even though I don't understand why. I don't deserve you, and I don't want to hurt you. But I will, and for that I'm sorry." 

"No, Zidane, no. You're going to be fine." 

Zidane suddenly gasped, then gritted his teeth. She felt him tremble below her, then exhale slowly, staring at the ceiling. He didn't appear to have the energy to even look at her. 

"Leave, Dagger. Please. I don't want you to see me . . . I don't want to frighten you." 

"No," she said. She leaned over so that she was in his view. "I don't want to leave you. If it's true . . . then . . . I want to spend every moment with you." 

He nodded, understanding her as he always did. She rested her head on his chest and sang softly to him, for she knew that's what he wanted. If such a tragedy had to happen, this was how it should be. 

She didn't know how long she sang. Perhaps it was hours. She felt his labored breathing and sang in tune to the beating of his heart. 

_Thump thump thump thump thump___

_Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.___

_Thump. . . thump. . . thump. . .___

_Thump._

And then. 

Silence. 

"Zidane?" 

She looked at him, at the same time feeling a cool breeze from the balcony that tousled her hair. His eyes were closed and his face was ashen. But it was not a contorted death mask of pain. He looked dignified, but serene. Zidane Tribal died with a smile on his face. 

Despite the tears that flowed down her cheeks, Garnet was smiling as well. She loved him so much, and to know she made his last few hours happy . . . 

She leaned toward him, kissing his still-warm lips. She hoped it followed his soul to the other world. 

She would morn him, she would continue to cry for him, and she would always, always love him. But Queen Garnet til Alexandros 17th knew at that moment she would continue her life, and someday she would be happy again. 

For the man she loved died smiling. 

THE END   
  


AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, I was a bit bored after writing "Terra Branford's Flight of Fancy," but not quite ready to delve into my next deep project. Thus, this short, sad little story about Zidane. 

Garland told Kuja he had a short life span, but nobody seemed to think whether or not this applied to Zidane as well. And maybe I just thought the ending was a bit too saccharine for my tastes. You know what they say about all good things.   
  
I hope my handful of fans find this story interesting enough to satisfy them until my next fanfic appears. I didn't find Final Fantasy IX to be as inspiring as VI, so my next attempt at fan fiction will be the stories of the characters in FF6 before the events of the game. And since my experimentation with alternate reality is over, you can be assured a lot of horrible things alluded to in "Flight of Fancy" just don't happen. 

If you this story, I highly recommend "Terra Branford's Flight of Fancy." It's much longer, much better (at least I think so) and ends on a far happier note. I hope you enjoy it. 

- Scribe of Figaro   



End file.
